


The Jerk Test

by Littleshebear



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-24 01:37:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17695148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Littleshebear/pseuds/Littleshebear
Summary: Hawthorne is decidedly unimpressed by the Vanguard Commander but Louis causes her to reconsider. No one is a better judge of character that Louis.





	The Jerk Test

Hawthorne watches Zavala lean against the table he’s commandeered to help plan his operations, which is housed in the barn he’s commandeered as a command centre. Hawthorne purses her lips and can’t resist a sneer as she wonders how long it will be before he commandeers the whole Farm. She leans against the wall in the corner and folds her arms, swallowing down a sarcastic quip. She shouldn’t stir up trouble with the Vanguard,  Devrim wouldn’t approve.

The rational part of her brain knows she should be grateful. When Zavala returned from Titan he brought manpower, tactical expertise and he’s been proactive in securing supplies but still. The petty, possessive part of her brain wishes he’d just take his fancy-pants Guardians and leave. The Farm was doing just fine without him and it still would if he left tomorrow. He’s just treating it as a stop-gap until he can get his precious City back anyway.

“Okay,” he intones, pointing to a map (a map Hawthorne drew, thank you very much), “We attack here, make them think we’re going for their munitions, Cayde’s people slip in here…”

“Really think the Cabal’ll buy it?” Cayde interrupts. “Your team is going to get hit hard.”

“I know,” Zavala replies. His voice is matter of fact, no hint of sadness or resignation. “It’s what we do. Besides -” He’s cut off suddenly, there’s a rustling in the rafters then a piercing cry; Louis is back from hunting.

Hawthorne raises her arm in anticipation when she sees him approach, but he flies straight past her and alights on Zavala’s over-sized pauldron. She lowers her hand, rather sheepishly. She stares at her (he is still hers, she’s fairly certain) falcon. He seems quite content, perched above Zavala’s shoulder. He raises one taloned foot to scratch under his beak with almost studied nonchalance.

Traitor, she thinks. Zavala, for his part, barely reacts, he merely raises one eyebrow, briefly casts his eyes towards the bird sat on his armour before turning his attention back to the map.

“As I was saying,” Zavala says in a slightly softer tone than before. “We’ve no reason to think they won’t fall for the ruse. They’ve no reason to believe we wouldn’t try to steal their munitions. They don’t know Shaxx is a wizard when it comes to forging ammo. They don’t know we need the medical supplies more.” There’s no response for a time, the only sound being Louis’ claws tapping against the metal of Zavala’s armour as he settles on his new perch. Cayde is covering his mouth with his clenched fist, he’s obviously trying not to laugh. Hawthorne surmises he’s dying to make some joke along the lines of Zavala being a big blue statue.

Hawthorne isn’t laughing though, she’s staring. There’s something so oddly peaceful about the scene before her. Zavala didn’t flinch, he didn’t complain, made no attempt to move Louis on. He just kept still and accepted the fact that a wild animal had decided to use him as a perch. It’s a strangely pastoral incident to happen in the middle of a war meeting. She finds herself warming to the Commander, in spite of herself.

“Ahem,” Cayde clears his throat theatrically. “So. We move out in, what, an hour?”  
  
Zavala nods, “An hour.” Cayde nods and backs out of the barn, gradually gathering speed as he nears the door. Hawthorne imagines him breaking into a run when he sees someone he can tell his story to. Zavala doesn’t move from the table, he just looks across to Hawthorne.

“Pardon me but….” He glances up at Louis, “Would you mind? I don’t want to startle him.”

She crosses over, fishing out a piece of jerky from a pouch on her belt to offer the wayward falcon.She coaxes Louis off his shoulder and on to her wrist with the offer of meat. “You ever been hawking before?”

“No, never,” He replies. Hawthorne thinks she detected the ghost of a smile as Louis transferred over to her, stretching out his wings for balance.

“You’d be good at it. Got the right demeanour. You’re quiet. That’s the key. It’s not about control, they’ve got to want to come to you. They need to feel safe with you.”

“Well then.” Zavala curls his fingers and gently strokes the feathers on Louis’ breast with his knuckles. “I feel honoured.”

“You should!” Hawthorne smirks. “He doesn’t go to just anyone, you know.”  She pauses, her expression defaulting to serious again. “What did Cayde mean just then? ‘We’ move out? Who’s we? Are you going too?”

Zavala starts clearing the table, picking up markers and rolling up the map. “Of course. I can’t ask my people to do something I wouldn’t be willing to do myself.”

“Oh.” She nods slowly, turning to head for the door. “Oh. I see.” She stops just before exiting the barn. “Well. Take care then. Louis would hate it if you got hurt.”

Zavala meets her gaze and replies without an ounce of sarcasm. “Then please assure Louis that I’ll be careful.”


End file.
